


The Star In Starting Over

by homesickness



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, (only in the beginning though), (though it's barely there), Acephobia, Angst, Aro Ace Nick, Asexual Louis, Demiromantic Louis, Depression, F/F, F/M, Famous Harry, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I have so many tags for this I apologize beforehand, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Makeup Artist Louis, Misgendering, Non-Famous Louis, Or More Like, Other, Pansexual Harry, Poet Louis, SOME TWs:, Self-Discovery, Spoken Word Poet, Tomlinshaw (friendship), Trans Louis, Trans girl Louis, Transphobia, YouTuber Louis, Zouis (friendship), between Niall and Zayn, but it's just mentioned, end of TWs, kind of, no change of name though, or - Freeform, plus they're friends with Nick so people know who they are, qpr, semi-famous Louis, so there's a change of pronouns in there, the story takes place over a couple of years too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homesickness/pseuds/homesickness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"You're not the sun, Louis. You're the moon. You shine the brightest when all we have is darkness and then when the day comes you let the sun take credit for it. And you deserve to be both. You deserve to be a galaxy."</i><br/> <br/>---</p><p>Louis goes through self-discovery, denial and enough confusion to last a lifetime. But the outcome is the greatest love story of all time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Star In Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jodie. x](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jodie.+x).



> This is my baby. I've been thinking about writing this for a very long time, though the details got worked out recently. And I have mixed emotions about writing it because it's going to be very personal, but I also feel like it's something I need to do. 
> 
> I'll put all trigger warnings in the tags and if something comes up I'll add it there. If you do not feel comfortable with those things I advice you to not read the fic or you can ask me about where those take place in the story, because I don't want it to cause any discomfort or panic for you. And if you notice anything in the story that you think I should add to it then please let me know. 
> 
> With that said, I'd like to thank **[Jodie](http://miniature-lou.tumblr.com/)** for being such a sweetheart. You let me rant about headcanons and Louis and it's very much appreciated. Love you.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own any of the people in this except those who I have created myself and this is not a representation of their feelings, actions, personalities or personal lives. This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. And this is the only place where I have posted this so if you see it elsewhere I would appreciate it if you'd notify me immediately. Same goes for translations. Also, any transphobic, acephobic, panphobic etc. comments will be deleted immediately. I do not tolerate it.

The roof’s the same as it’s always been. Louis sticks to the concrete floor like glue, his body nailed to the ground with fingertips tracing the cracks in it along the outline of his own hips. He’s tripping over overheated thoughts and the way the stars are looking down at him with pity in their glow. It’s the same pity he’s been getting from everyone in his life lately, the one filled with _what went wrong?_ and _who hurt you?_ and none of it comes with any answers.                                              

Louis needs answers, soon, or else he won’t be able to get along with the world much longer. They’re tip toeing around each other, orbiting life together but never reaching out to connect all the dots. He’s just another planet far away that no one has yet to reach. He’s Pluto, no longer an established body in the crowd. And while everyone has found their label, their place in the world’s plan for them, Louis is watching from the other side of the galaxy with tired eyes and nothing to show for it but the tea he brew with the bags under his eyes when he couldn’t sleep tonight.

Zayn reaches out for his hand and holds it tight enough to bring him back down. They never go here without each other and tonight couldn’t be an exception, no matter how much Louis actually needs it to be. He needs himself more than he needs Zayn right now, whoever he is or whatever the world wants him to become, but they _promised_ and Louis couldn’t break it even if he tried.

“I know you’re not ok, Lou,” Zayn breaks the silence.

Louis doesn’t say anything, because the words are still stuck around his tongue like barbed wire. There’s a fence between them that used to be topped with it, but it’s been clinging to Louis lately, keeping him from climbing over and always forcing him to pine after the other side. Pine after people like Zayn that’s gotten their shit together lately despite their young age and the fact that none of them know where they’re heading.

“Everyone’s worried. Liam almost cried yesterday when you stormed off,” Zayn tries again. Louis knows that it’s to get some kind of explanation out of him, but that’s what Louis wants too. He wants a reason for why he doesn’t know himself, why he can’t understand his own body and the way it works, why he feels like whatever happens all he can do is bang on the door asking for his own mind of let him out of here.

“I feel trapped,” Louis says. It’s not much, he thinks, but it’s all he’s got right now.

“We all do, Lou. This town is absolute shit and we want to get out as much as you do, but that’s no reason to be an ass to us,” Zayn throws at him, gently, and plays with his fingers as if they’re strings on a guitar. Except Louis can’t produce melodies, only screams of agony or complete silence.

“No, I-“ Louis doesn’t know if Zayn’ll get it, he doesn’t understand it yet either, but this is all he can afford to offer. “I feel trapped in myself.”

“What?” Of course he doesn’t get it. No one does. Louis doesn’t.  

“I can’t bother to care about getting out of here when I can’t even get out of my own body,” he whispers, only a short distance from barely audible. He’s not sure how he’s managed to keep a straight face for so long when the emotions are running wild around both of them, speeding down from the night sky like meteors crashing, burning, creating scars on earth that aspire to amaze people.

“Lou, is this about- about the sexuality thing, because you know-“

“No, it’s _not_ , it’s about me. About everything I assumed I was.”

Louis lets go of his hand and sits right up. His thighs bump against his chest when he pulls them in and he wraps his arms around himself to keep warmth close by. Everything is pushing him away lately and he knows that he’s hurting people by letting it, but trying to stay in a body that doesn’t make sense to him feels impossible.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that-,” he stops there, not actually ready to admit to it yet. Not even to Zayn. Not even to himself. “I’m saying that I tried on Lottie’s skirt yesterday and cried because I didn’t want to take it off.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn says, or almost snaps at him. Louis never thought that he’d be aggressive about it. When he’d imagined the many reaction that could come with it; laughter, shock, understanding, he’d always assumed that anger was the last thing he’d have to worry about. Ignorance would hurt less. “Sorry.”

“I mean, I-I-,” Louis stutters, still clinging to himself as if it’ll somehow make him more independent, more one with himself. But instead all he can feel is how his trousers are absorbing the cold, how his thin jacket allows the wind to sweep through and greet his skin, how this roof aesthetic is overrated and too glorified. “ _Fuck_.” He screams it as loud as his frozen lungs can carry it up his throat without it developing into a bundle of sobs and lets his fingers tug gently at the far ends of his hair.

“Louis, shit, calm down.” Zayn wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer, with his chin on Louis’ shoulder and a protective, soothing chorus of _breathe, love_.

“I just-,” Louis starts, “- whenever mum calls me her son it’s like someone punched me in the stomach, Zayn. I _hate it_ . And when Niall calls me lad or bro or dude, I want to punch _him_ in the stomach.” And if Zayn laughs to ease the tension or because he genuinely finds it funny, Louis will never know, but it helps.

“Oh, Louis.”

“ _No_ , don’t pity me. I don’t need it. I need you to tell me what’s wrong with me so I can fix it,” Louis pleads to him and claws at the ground to keep himself from going completely insane. He’d scratch himself bloody if it would spell out a solution, he’d sell his soul to know what to do with his confusion, he’s prepared walk to China if that’s where they have the answers. Though he’s hoping Zayn has them too.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, except the fact that you think there is.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an introduction and therefore short, but the chapters will be quite lengthy after this and I'm aiming for around 100K words in total, but knowing myself I'm most likely way off with that.
> 
> Either way, I hope you'll enjoy all of it and don't be afraid to [message me on tumblr](http://aroloueh.tumblr.com/), whether it's about something I should add, TWs that I need to mention, or just to talk about the story. x


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